Shattered
by Ariana Malfoy- Lestrange
Summary: His death left her shattered. So sometimes, when it gets too much, she goes there, to sit, and to think, to rant, to cry, to smile, and to remember how to live again. Mentioned CC.


Author's Notes: This is just a little ficlet, about Cho and poor dead Cedric. It covers her grief- gosh, I haven't done a plain old Cho monolouge in a looooonnnngggg time. You'll find that this one isn't as angsty as some of my other ones. I wanted to capture a certain essence to it, at least, near the end, I'm not sure if I did. I wrote it intending for her to pretty much actually be saying these things, but I didn't want to do the whole fic in dialouge, just keep in mind, she's pretty much talking to Cedric, not to herself. If you review, I'll give you a cookie! :)

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It's funny- how you had the ability to make me feel so many different things at once. How I could feel like I was falling, but flying too...drowning, but being pulled out of the water...how I can feel like crying, and yet laughing, and dying, and _living_.

I fell- fell into something I didn't understand, and could have never possibly comprehended. I fell into something I didn't want to fall into...but the gravity of it all I could not defy, I knew that it would pull me into it no matter what.

And this thought reeled me completely. It floored me- how could this happen to me, me who has always been _so_ in control of her emotions...of not letting myself _feel_, of putting on a sequined mask all day. It's inevitable- nobody else really notices either, because I've gotten so used to putting a mask. And yet, in the moment of a quick glance, a smile, the touch of your hand when you picked me up from the ground, it was like the mask had flown off…it never had before.

It never will again.

And then I fell. I fell into you. I fell in love, fell from my pedestal, fell from grace, fell from the security I used to be so sure of. I fell into a gap, a black hole, a space continuum, an alternate universe, something where nothing made sense, and yet everything made sense at the same time.

The darkness, the darkness that I've fallen into, the darkness that you pulled me into, pulled me into without even realizing you did, it's so dark. How dark, and how eternal, never-ending, always going on, and on, and on, and on; an abyss that doesn't have a bottom.

Not one that I can see.

And I wonder how long I'll fall, I wonder if I'll fall forever, or if I'll simply fall until there's no more darkness to fall into. I wonder if I'll ever stop loving, if I'll ever stop feeling, if I'll ever stop falling. I wonder if the darkness is complete. I wonder if it'll swallow me.

You were supposed to save me from the abyss, but instead, you pushed me in.

You were supposed to make everything simple, but instead, you made it all the more complicated.

Sense- yes, I know I'm not making any.

Oh, well- sense is overrated anyways. As is just about everything else I can think of.

I sit here, and I think of you. I think of how you isolated me from the world, how everything seems so complicated, and yet so simple, too simple. I think of the complexity of human emotion, and how absurd it is, I think about the absurdness of breathing, when sometimes it seems there's nothing worth breathing for.

I think of how one day I'll look back on this and laugh, laugh at the sheer oddity of it, at the outpouring of emotion that flows so freely, so seamlessly, so effortlessly. And I think that the one day I'll be able to look back on this and laugh, is a very far off day indeed.

And I hate you for it. I despise you; I loathe you for doing this to me. I hate you for making me see who I really am, that everything isn't all sparkly, and perfect, that life hurts, that life isn't fair, that I can't look at the world with rose-tinted glasses anymore, that I've _shattered_, that I've broken into innumerable pieces too tiny to count, let alone put back together.

How did you do it? How could you so easily dismantle in the space of a smile everything I've ever believed in, or stood for, or wanted to be? How did you do this to me, how did you make me lightheaded, and dizzy, and so sad? How did you make me feel the way I do, how did you make me feel in a way I never knew I could feel?

I wonder when you looked at me, what did you see? I wonder if you saw the girl the world sees, I wonder if you see the girl who everybody else sees. I think you knew better though. I think you knew, that deep inside, I'm just a girl who wants nothing more than a fairy-tale, that, Merlin, I just wanted someone to love me, forever, and ever, and ever- until there are no more forevers.

That's all it really is.

Human emotion is odd, isn't it? The base of human desire, perhaps even the point of our very existence, is to love, and to be loved, isn't it? And yet, what happens to those who cannot love, or are not loved? Is their existence meaningless then? Is all they have done for naught?

See? Do you _see_ this? Do you see what you've done to me? You've turned self-actualized and empowered me into a mess of clichés and philosophical rants, you've turned me into something I'm _not_, but in reality, maybe it was something I knew I was the whole time.

You made me into something I'm not, but something I was all along, at the same time.

You made the contraries seem so parallel, so confusing, so clear, so reasonable. I've never known to feel so many conflicting feelings at once, something like having the sun and the moon rise at the same time.

You made me want to feel again. You made me want to spin around, and around, and around in circles until I get dizzy, and the world _finally_ spins with me. You made me want to laugh again, like I haven't laughed in a long time. You made me want to be so beautiful, not in looks, but in soul. You made me wish so hard that I'm not what I am, that I am everything good that I'm not. You made me wish I was whole, and unbroken, instead of shattered pieces clumsily put back together. You made me want to cry, cry at the absurdity of it all- how I, of all people, could feel this way for someone who will _never_ feel the same.

But I was wrong, wasn't I, Cedric?

The irony of it kills me, it really does. The irony of just _being_, the irony of nothingness, of the great void, of the vertigo I felt when I was with you, the vertigo that died when you did. The irony of life, of love, of anger, of tears, of flitting smiles gone with the sunlight, the irony of finally feeling again, only for it to have been for absolutely nothing. The irony of the silliness of everything, the irony of the utter pointlessness of everything. The irony of living, when you think there can be nothing else possibly good _to_ live for.

It poisons me. You poisoned me. You condemned me, condemned me to something I know nothing of, something that hurts like nothing I've ever known. You engulfed me, and I let you. I let you pull me headlong into the things the like of which that's only in books, I let you pull me into a fairytale, only to have my castle crumble, fall to dust, shatter, shatter like I did.

It doesn't matter anyways- I could have never been good enough for you. I could never have rightfully deserved you.

And now, Cedric, you're _dead_.

You're dead- oh yes, I can say it now, but only when I'm alone, you're dead, Cedric, you left me, Cedric.

What am I supposed to do _now_?

I hate this, Cedric, I really do. I hate stumbling over the same rock, I hate coming back to where I was, I _hate_ it.

I can't deal Cedric, I can't. I won't. It's too much, too much all at once.

And oh, it's so hard- it's so hard.

And you know what else I hate, Cedric? I hate crying. I hate crying like I am right now. I hate feeling like I'm about to cry when I hear your name, or even think about you, for goodness sakes. It's pathetic, it really is.

I can't help it. I can't help a lot of things.

Sometimes, Cedric, I think I'm about to go insane. Sometimes, it's too much for me to handle all at once. And then, I come here. I come to you, or rather, an empty shell that once housed _you_. But it doesn't matter, I have a feeling that you can hear me wherever I go.

Cedric, I'm just going to lay my head down here, on the cool marble, and just cry for a little- just a little, I promise. I've been good about not crying at home, my parents would worry too much. Oh, the marble feels lovely, Cedric. I'm sorry if it's sacrilegious to do so- you wouldn't care, anyways, would you?

All right- I'm done, Ced. I've had my little cry for the day; I'm dreadfully tired of crying.

I'm smushing your flowers, I'm sorry. I brought daisies- they're pretty, aren't they? I'll move them in a minute, but not now. I don't want to disturb the atmosphere. It's such a pretty, clear afternoon. And it's so quiet here.

I've been so screwed up this year, Cedric. You know, of course, you really do know.

Oh, it's so nice here, Cedric. And if I close my eyes, and keep my head still on your headstone, tracing the etched letters that spell out your name, I can feel a slight breeze flow over me, like water, or peace. Or comprehension. Insight, maybe.

It's so nice to just _be_ here, right now, Cedric. To breathe, to be alive. It's wonderful, really, and everything seems so picturesque, and …okay. Everything seems _okay._ _I'm_ okay, Cedric. I'll be okay. I've let everything out- again, and I'm cleansed now, Cedric.

Thank you.

Even when you aren't here, you still help me. How is that?

I don't know- but, no, maybe I _do_.

I think I see now, Cedric, I think I know now.

I think I understand, I really do.


End file.
